Duality
by For Your Lungs Only
Summary: He was her polar opposite, calm and cool to her fiery and brash. Opposites attract - but first you have to stop them from annoying the hell out of eachother. FemShep/Thane.
1. Vessel

You're dying.

The words seemed so cold and unfeeling as the doctor had delivered the news to him. It was only fitting, was it not? He gave a short, harsh chuckle as he dwelled on the irony of the situation. He had spent the last twenty-seven years taking lives quickly and efficiently, and now he was destined to spend the next 12 to 18 months dying slowly and painfully, struggling to breathe until that last final breath would evade him.

He thought of Irikah, sunset eyes and indignation. How she had awoken him from his battle sleep. It was the first – and only – time he had ever failed one of his assignments. He had been confused at first as to this new feeling that had pervaded his soul. Before her, he could not ever recall a time where he had felt anything except the need to fulfill his body's purpose, what it had been trained since the age of six to do.

He thought of Kolyat, and the intense joy he had felt when he was born. He thought he could never love another as much as he had Irikah, but he was wrong. They were both the force in his life that kept him together, kept him from feeling cold and empty again. And then, in an instant, it had been all shattered.

He remembered coming home, back from an assignment to deal with a batarian owner of a slave ring, and seeing the awful sight that would burn into his memory even more than others, and haunt him for many sleepless nights to come.

A rare, sunny afternoon. He steps into the house, grateful to know he will soon be in the arms of his wife, soon hear the cries of laughter from his son. The house is dark. Just enough sunlight to see a small, dark form is hunching over something. It is Kolyat, sobbing. Realization hits quickly. A body. Whose? Gods. Irikah. He drags Kolyat away, the eight-year-old boy throwing small punches into his leg. Screaming, wailing. Accusations. "You should have been there! Where were you? You're never here when we need you! This is your fault!" He is thinking the same thing, his guilt overwhelming him. He silently vows to seek out and kill every last person who had a hand in this, when he hears a small voice harshly whisper: "I hate you."

"Excuse me, Mr. Krios?"

Thane opened his eyes, recovering from the silent solipsism he had inadvertently slipped into.

"I… apologize." Thane eyed the doctor, a drell smaller in stature and height than himself.

"It's okay. News of terminal illness is not something that takes very well. There is hope, though. There is a research foundation founded by some of the hanar here on Kahje that is looking into Kepral's. They're looking into a cure, and might be pretty close to achieving it in the next few years. As for you, you have a little over a year and half, but that time can be greatly extended with the help of a lung transplant."

Thane shook his head sadly. No, who was he to be granted the extension of life, to cheat death when he had aided its dark hand so many times before. He would join Irikah beyond the sea when the gods willed it.

"But Mr. Krios, you are a viable candidate! The disease has not spread to any other organs so far and- "

At that point, he had jumped off the exam table and exited the room. Suddenly the smell of bright lights and antiseptic was making him dizzy. He had to get away, go somewhere, and reflect quietly to himself. But first, he had business to attend to. Once outside, he tapped some controls on his omni-tool to bring up one of his contacts.

He would not die helpless and gasping for breath. He would die in combat, bleeding out to an enemy bullet.

His body and soul willed it.


	2. Preparation

Shepard yawned as she awoke to the blackness of space above her, the luminous stars dotting the view. It was calming to wake up to everyday, knowing that it would always be there. She checked her omni-tool for the time. She was prone to waking up at random hours, seeing as how there was only artificial light aboard the Normandy, and no sense of time.

She groaned. It was 0638 hours, and they were due to arrive on Illium at 0730. "So much for an extra five minutes," she thought to herself. She slipped out of bed and headed towards the bathroom, shedding her clothes along the way.

Shepard turned on the water, letting the hot spray envelop her. She looked down at the spiderwebbing of scars crisscrossing her body; they were starting to fade, but were still noticeable nonetheless. In the back of her mind, she almost didn't want them to fade. It was a reminder, albeit painful, of her death. She needed to remember her death so that she could feel alive.

Images swam into her head of remembering what it felt like to die. The panic she felt in her heart as she tumbled into the black depths. She had been gasping for air, feeling the pressure in her lungs slowly rise. Then she had felt them rupture. Nothing in her lifetime could have ever prepared her for the pain, no amount of Alliance training videos on being spaced (Hell, why did they even have those? You were going to die, anyway…) could have silenced the scream that ripped through her mind at that very moment. Of course, she had opened her mouth to do so, but the sound did not carry in vacuum of space. Oddly enough, it was not Kaidan whom she thought of during her final moments, as dark images swam before her.

She had wondered what would happen when she died. She had never been religious at all in life, and the fear of fading into nothingness had overwhelmed her. She chuckled to herself, remembering an old saying: "There are no atheists in foxholes." She hadn't been entirely sure of the existence of an afterlife before her death, but now she was sure. There was no God. There was only Cerberus and The Illusive Man's 4 billion dollar little project.

She shook her head. She was grateful to be alive, but… She didn't want to experience dying another time. This time she might not be as lucky to suffocate in thirty seconds. She visualized herself lying in a ditch somewhere on a barren planet, bleeding out slowly from a shot to the gut. Or being harvested for the Collectors and whatever sick things they were up to with humans.

Shepard ambled out of the shower and threw on her commander's outfit, frowning slightly at the Cerberus logo emblazoned on the front. She dried her shoulder length red hair and brushed it just enough to look decent. There was really no need to get fancy when she could die any moment; there were much more pertinent issues at hand.

Stepping into the elevator, she pushed the controls that would lead her to the crew deck. She walked out, entering the mess hall and giving Mess Sergeant Gardner a friendly nod.

"Morning, Commander," the older man said with a friendly smile. "The usual?"

"You know it," she said, giving a little half smile back.

"I figured as much," Gardner said, handing her an already prepared meal. She thanked him with a nod and turned to see that the mess hall was already mostly full with the bustling of the crew. She spotted an empty seat next to Garrus, Jacob, and oddly enough, Jack. Jack was never usually seen eating with the rest of the crew; she usually took her meals and retreated to her hidey-hole. Shepard wondered if she was finally warming up to the crew.

She was briefly amused at the conversation she had stumbled into, which had the three participants so engrossed that they didn't notice her sit down.

"Probably Kelly," said Garrus to Jacob and Jack. "That woman has been all over me since the moment she saw me. She'd jump at the most remote chance to get it on with some turians."

"Pfft, please. She's just being friendly. It would most likely be you," said Jacob, throwing a glance to Jack. I bet you've had your share of interspecies lovers."

Jack frowned at Jacob, who for a small moment regretted the playful comment, until Jack grinned at him. "Fuck you, Taylor. Maybe I have, but that doesn't mean I'll be spreading it for Fornax. No, I'd lay my bets on Shepard. The woman's got a taste for adventure, if you know what I mean."

"Ahem." Shepard cleared her throat, alerting the three to her presence. Jacob jumped about half a mile, Jack looked unconcerned as always, and Garrus a little bashful.

"So this is what I miss out on half the time? Speculation about my future participation in Fornax?" Shepard smirked, not one to be angry at such things. Hey, life was short – she knew from experience – and they were on their way to a suicide mission. Why not have a little fun?

"Mostly. And some other fucked up things too," Jack said gleefully. "Oh, and that shit is nasty, Shep. How do you eat it for breakfast?" the tattooed woman inquired, glancing down at the crab cakes on her plate before walking away. Jacob silently excused himself, embarrassed.

That left Shepard with Garrus, whom she raised an inquisitive eyebrow to.

"So, I was going to ask, but I don't think I want to know how that conversation even came about," she said, digging into her food.

"No, I don't think you do," Garrus said, eyeing her food. "You know, Jack is right."

Shepard narrowed her eyes at him.

"No, no, not about that!" he said quickly, waving his talons in front of him to absolve the misunderstanding. "I mean, about the… What do you call them? Crab cakes. They smell pretty bad," he said, wrinkling his face.

"Well, at least it looks better than that dextro sludge you're eating," she said, glancing at the blue, lumpy slosh in Garrus's bowl. "But, if you must know, it's a food I got used to eating for breakfast as a kid. I spent a summer in Maine, on earth, as a kid."

Garrus still looked unappeased, looking at the cakes.

"So, anyway, what do you think of this assassin guy we're going after today?" Shepard inquired to the turian.

Garrus was her go-to guy, the one she always looked to for advice, her best friend. She could talk to him about anything, and he always went on every mission with her. Today would be no different. They were en route to Illium to recruit a dangerous drell assassin by the name of Thane Krios.

"Well, his dossier certainly is… Impressive," Garrus said, using his catchphrase.

"I swear to god if you use that word one more time - "

"Sorry," Garrus said, smirking. "Remarkable. Being trained to kill since childhood. And apparently, he's not too shabby with a sniper rifle. But of course, probably not as good as me," Garrus said, taking the opportunity to boast playfully.

"Suuuure. We'll see soon," Shepard chided. Garrus quickly adopted a serious face though, all business once more. 

"However, we need to be careful. We have no idea what this guy is truly capable of. And don't forget – he's an assassin. He's just as likely to watch your back as he is to shoot you in it," Garrus said grimly.

"Thanks, Garrus. I'll keep that in mind," she said, finishing her meal. "Suit up and meet me in the shuttle," she said, gathering her plate.


	3. Encounter

Shepard stared in disbelief at how quickly it had taken this strange man to take out the two bodyguards and Nassana, all while moving quickly and swiftly. It was almost like a dance, the way he moved.

And it was even weirder that he was now praying over the asari's lifeless form.

"Impressive." Shepard glanced annoyingly at Garrus, but said nothing as he continued. "You certainly know how to make an entrance."

Oh, it was entrance indeed. Shepard was speechless as he deftly dropped from the ceiling on his unsuspecting prey, stylishly eliminating his target. If it was a proper time, Shepard may have smiled. Like killing in style made it any less wrong.

"I came a long way to talk to you," Shepard said, stepping forward towards the deadly drell.

"One moment. Prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken," he rumbled deeply in a voice that sent shivers down her spine.

Weird. A religious assassin? This guy was getting more and more interesting by the second.

"Do you really think she deserves it?" Shepard asked, curious.

"Not for her. For me." The assassin lifted his head and began walking towards the three. Garrus and Mordin instinctively tensed up, hands flying to their weapons and ready to pull them out in a moment's notice. The action was not lost on Thane, who inwardly noted that if he wanted to do them harm, he could have done so already, without them even knowing what hit them. The turian for instance, he could approach from the side, aim a low kick to the knee, grab his arm and pull it into a broken-leg lock, finger-stab him under the jaw and snap his neck. All in fewer than five seconds.

He continued. "The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern from actions alone. Take you for instance. All this chaos… destruction. I was curious to see how far you'd go to find me," he said, looking at Shepard with fathomless black eyes.

"Well… here I am," he said, spreading his arms before clasping them behind his back.

Cocky bastard, Shepard thought to herself. "So how did you know I was coming?" she asked.

"I didn't, not until you marched in the door and started shooting." Shepard frowned a little. This man was going to grate her nerves. He somehow managed to sound sarcastic while being completely genuine. 

"You were a valuable distraction."

Suppressing the urge to get angry with him for using her and her team to accomplish his job, she remembered that this was a man she needed for a mission. Better to be friendly.

"Let's cut to the chase," Shepard said, folding her arms. "I need you for a mission. You've heard of the Collectors?"

"By reputation," Thane said.

"They're abducting entire human colonies. Freedom's progress was their handiwork."

"I see." He paused for a moment, thoughtful. "Attacking the Collectors would mean passing through the Omega-4 relay. No ship has ever returned from doing so."

Tell me something I don't know, Shepard mused. "They say it's a suicide mission. I intend to prove them wrong," she said with as much smugness as she could muster.

"Ah, a suicide mission. Exactly what I need," Thane said, closing his eyes.

Woah. If there's one thing I don't need on my team, it's a _depressed _deadly assassin, Shepard thought.

"This was to be my last mission. I'm dying." Thane said the words to this stranger, the words he had not yet even said to his son yet. He shoved Kolyat out of his mind as he accepted the Commander's offer. He might as well go out doing something good for the universe.


	4. Challenge

"Commander Shepard speaking, everyone listen up. We'll be docking on Omega in about ten minutes, and I'm giving everyone some well-deserved shore leave. So go out, enjoy yourselves, and for God's sake don't get in any trouble; I'm not bailing your drunken ass out of getting it kicked by an angry krogan again. Joker, this means you. Report back to the Normandy in 24 hours. Shepard out."

Shepard had given the crew shore leave, but only selfishly. She felt like she needed some time off. Running across the galaxy and saving the day with do-goodings was tiresome. And with the recent debacle involving Jacob's father and the Hugo Gernsback, now seemed as good a time as ever. Even though Omega wasn't the most respectable place in the galaxy, it was good enough to get in some relaxation.

After showering, she boarded the elevator and took it to the crew deck, where she discovered that most of the crew had already cleared out since arrival. Guess they really did need some time off, she thought. Of course, no one would voice their needs of leave to her – she was far too intimidating to most, and the crew knew she didn't like whiners.

She took the long walk to the ship's battery. Garrus was tapping away at the console, ever calibrating. He turned to her at the hiss of the sliding doors.

"Shepard. Need me for something?"

"Yeah. I wanna know why you're in here calibrating the guns, when I've given you a whole day of leave," she said, folding her arms.

"Well, Shepard, the Thanix cannon is – "

Shepard cut him off abruptly. "I'll stop you before you launch into the technobabble, you're coming with me. They've opened a firing range on Omega, and I wanted to check it out. And besides, you can't resist guns anyway. And you have nothing else better to do," she said, smiling at the turian.

"Fine, then. You always get your way, Shepard," he said playfully. "I'll meet you after I finish this –"

Shepard strode over to the console while Garrus was mid-sentence, turning the power off.

"Finished! Okay, let's go," Shepard said, smirking. Garrus obliged, but not without griping under his breath along the way.

When they got to the elevator, Shepard noticed a familiar figure waiting in front of the doors. The drell turned to face the duo as they approached, giving a short bow.

"Commander, Garrus."

Shepard nodded a greeting to Thane, as did Garrus.

Thane was always so stiff and formal. It was a thing that mildly annoyed Shepard. She hadn't known the assassin for very long, but it was as if he had only one emotion: calm and collected. Shepard was the kind of woman who liked to find out what got under people's nerves, what made them crawl. Krios was no exception.

"So, Thane. Any plans for your leave?" said Shepard, as they all piled into the elevator when it arrived.

Thane spoke, his baritone voice almost rumbling the small space. "No, not as of yet. I had hoped to later buy some weapons that will be more of use to the mission… Collectors are not the kind of target you face armed with only knives and a sniper rifle," he said.

"True. Well, since you don't have anything planned, you should come to the firing range with me and Garrus," said Shepard, wanting to see what the assassin was made of. She had yet to see his so called remarkable marksmanship in action, and was eager to know how the drell was with a gun.

"Thank you for the offer, but no. I'm sure I will find something of value to attend to for the next 24 hours," Thane politely declined.

Ever so manipulative, Shepard used a tactic that almost always worked on males. She undermined his capabilities.

"What, scared that Garrus here can outshoot you? It's ok, I understand if you don't want to let yourself get shown up."

A pause.

"Perhaps I will accompany you, Shepard. It's always nice to get some practice in."

Shepard inwardly smirked. So Thane did have a bit of an ego, even if he chose not to put it on display. Next to her, Garrus shuffled his feet. Shepard could almost feel his anticipation – Garrus liked to show off. This was going to be a hell of a match up, Shepard thought.

* * *

Shepard was situated between Thane and Garrus, eyes trained on the targets in front of her. She had not managed to come even close to Garrus's expertise, and definitely not Thane's. The drell had somehow managed to get a headshot with every shot he took, effortlessly.

"You'd think the great Commander Shepard would have a little bit more luck out here than this," Shepard said wryly, as Thane netted himself yet another headshot. "How do you do it?"

"It is a skill not so easily acquired, Shepard. It is the product of decades of training."

Shepard grunted. Even when he had the opportunity to, Thane never gloated.

Unexpectedly, Shepard felt a hand on her shoulder, and around her waist. She instinctively stiffened.

"You must keep your aim steady," Thane said, painfully close to her ear, grabbing the hands that held her gun.

Shepard took another shot, trying to ignore the huskiness of the voice next to her. She missed horribly. Focus, she had to keep telling herself, as she felt slightly dizzy. Why was she feeling like this?

"Hold your breath, but relax your muscles. It helps greatly," he said, and in an instant the warmth that was around her disappeared. She felt herself almost missing it, but quickly shook the feeling away.

She took another shot, and this one was perfect. She gave Thane a small smile, which he seemed to return with his eyes. They resumed the shooting.

Over to her right, Garrus missed a shot while Thane got another perfect one. Garrus threw down his goggles, frustrated. "I need a drink," he growled, walking towards the exit.

"I second that," said Shepard, following after. Nothing sounded more appealing to her at that moment than drinking her worries away.


	5. Antidote

Afterlife was the best place on Omega to release all your inhibitions, and let yourself go to the pulsating music, lights, and dancers.

It was also the best place to get completely shitfaced.

Thane had ended up at Afterlife with the rest of the SR-2 crew, sitting alone at a table in the bottom room with his back to the wall. He was staring at the drink in front of him, the bluish concoction that he had ordered minutes before.

The silent wind echoes in the trees as he sits on the beach, leather jacket tossed carelessly into the sand. He has a bottle of wine in one hand, the other aimlessly sifting through the granules as he stares into the sea. Everything is blurry – it helps to not be so clear, to not remember everything. But of course he can never forget. He walks out to where the water is crashing in, pulling and receding at his feet. He wonders foggily what it would be like to join her there.

He was contemplating on whether to drown his sorrow in the drink when he heard an angry roar from the center of the club. Snapping his focus to it, he saw Grunt being dragged off by four bouncers, and a dazed turian lying on the floor. He had a metal chuckle at the inevitability of the situation – krogans were already an antagonistic species, and alcohol didn't help one bit.

And the drink before him wouldn't help Thane one bit, either. He was pushing it away from himself when he saw Shepard walking towards his table, her usual assertive gait.

"Krios." She greeted him and sat down at the table. For a moment, Thane felt trapped. He wasn't particularly in the mood to engage in conversation at the moment. He was cornered.

"Not much of a drinker, eh?"

Not anymore. "No. I like to stay aware at all times. Diminishing my capacity to defend myself, in my profession, is a deadly mistake."

She nodded. "That makes sense. But it must get tiring, having to watch your back all the time," said Shepard. "But, looks like you've already got your back covered," she said, alluding to the fact he had situated himself in a position to where he could not be taken by surprise. Observant woman, he thought.

She continued, with barely a pause between her last statement in the next. "However, you wouldn't have to if you weren't a killer for hire," she said, accusingly.

"You and me are not so different, Commander," Thane was slightly irritated, although he was an expert at hiding his expressions and Shepard failed to notice. Why had he been recruited for this mission, then, if everyone was going to criticize his area of expertise? "You are also a killer for hire, are you not? The only difference is," he said, leaning forward slightly, "is that what you do is legal."

"That's exactly the point. I do it for a cause. If it's for the greater good, and someone poses a threat, you're damn right I'll take them out. But you? You kill people that thugs want dead, for their own personal reasons." Shepard was testing him, he could tell. He was wise enough to know the difference between a simple goading and a test of character. Well, this was a game that two could play at.

"Force and fraud are in war the two cardinal virtues. You know the meaning of this well, yes? Torfan - a perfect example. You sent several to die while you disposed of those who had surrendered. Legal? Yes. Moral? Maybe not. This is the grey area in which you and I reside, Shepard."

Shepard felt her face grow hot at the mention of the incident at the small moon. She was playing a dangerous game of chicken with the assassin and realized that he wasn't going to back down.

"Those were darker days… but yes. I do what I need to do to get the job done. And I know you'll do the same," she said coolly, smothering her anger.

And with that, she turned and left, leaving the assassin still as unsure of what to make of the commander as he had been on Illium.

He looked down, and noted that his drink was gone.

* * *

Thane had continued to watch the antics of the crew, never bothering to get up and join them. He was much too deep in his own thoughts, as always. He did, however, notice some things every now and then that forcefully demanded his attention; Garrus had a few too many and was foolishly dancing while two asari snickered at his awful coordination. Mordin could be heard rapidly conversing with another salarian who was clearly bored with the conversation.

And, Shepard had just collapsed to the floor. Without thinking twice, Thane rushed to her, looking at the unconscious woman. He had hardly seen her drink, not enough to pass out stone cold like this. He saw the rest of the team rushing over as well, and they managed to get her to the nearest bathroom to figure out the problem.

Mordin began frantically talking. "Dehydration – no, couldn't possible make Shepard pass out so quickly. Humans, sometimes out from shock as well. Maybe – "

"Poison," said Thane and Garrus, simultaneously. They looked at each other.

"Her breathing is ragged and her skin is turning a peculiar color," he said, pulling a vial out of his jacket.

_The hanar teacher waves a tentacle at many vials and bubbling concoctions, explaining each method of poison to the young drell. "This one believes one should always resort to stealthier methods, when a direct attack would not be feasible – like a much stronger target. One should know these different methods, and also know how to counteract them should they be used to one's disadvantage._

_Just a small thirteen year old boy, he carefully slips the fatal liquid into the bottle of Ryncol. He watches silently from the vents as the krogan below collapses and writhes in pain before falling still._

"It's that damn batarian bartender," said Garrus. "Loves to poison humans."

"Don't you think Shepard should have been warned of this?" Thane said, tipping the vial into Shepard's mouth. The turian grimaced.

After what felt like an eternity later, Shepard finally awoke, finding herself staring into the blackness of Thane's eyes.

"Ugh… what happened?" she said, rubbing her temples and sitting up.

"Poisoned," said Mordin. "Thane had special variable antidote on hand. Fortunate. Almost died," he said.

Shepard turned to look at Thane, who regarded her back. "My training," he explained. "It's very useful at times."

Always with the smugness, Shepard thought, amused. But the man did save her life. "…Thank you, Thane."

"Anything to make sure the mission runs smoothly," Thane said, depersonalizing the benevolent act. Shepard frowned a little – it seemed Thane was always trying his best to not appear invested in anything.

"Where is the rest of the crew?" she said, standing up and addressing the three people in front of her.

"Out to look for that bastard batarian that poisoned you," Garrus said, his distinctive turian flange echoing in the bathroom. As soon as he said it, Jacob and Miranda burst through the door, carrying a shifty looking batarian by the arms. They threw him on the floor, at the feet of Shepard.

"This scum's all yours," Jacob said, looking down with distaste. Shepard was about to say something when Thane stepped in front of her and yanked the batarian up by the collar. He procured yet another vial from his pocket.

"Drink it," he said calmly, looking at the batarian's top two eyes.

"But – but – you can't –" he sputtered, flabbergasted.

"Drink it," he repeated. The batarian sadly took the vial and tipped it into his mouth. Seconds later, he fell on the floor.

"Did you just kill him?" Shepard asked, shocked.

"No. But he will we having some rather explosive vomiting, retinal bleeding, and crippling stomach pain for the next two days or so," said Thane, looking down at the crumpled batarian.

"The greater good," he said, walking out and leaving the stunned crew behind.


End file.
